


A Voice in the Wind

by dreamiflame



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Haunting, Post-At World's End, ToT: Extra Treat, ToT: Monster Mash, ToT: Trick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8418664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamiflame/pseuds/dreamiflame
Summary: The problem with becoming a ghost is that no one can see you.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theladyscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/gifts).



> Happy Halloween, theladyscribe! I loved the idea of James being a ghost. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Thanks to my beta for being awesome and very fast.

The Pirate King stepped on board her ship _The Empress_. Her crew saluted her with much more respect than they had before.

Before, she had been a weak, outsider woman their true captain had been infatuated with. In a fit of dying madness, he had named her captain, but none of the men planned to obey her.

But then she faced down Death, chose to stay with the sailors in the brig of _The Dutchman_ and proved herself more than competent.

And now she was the bride of the new Death, and King of the Brethren Court. Though she was still an outsider, her crew would follow her to Hell.

“Elizabeth,” she heard at the edge of her hearing, as though the breeze whispered her name. Elizabeth glanced around, but saw nothing.

“Your cabin is prepared, Captain,” the first mate said, and Elizabeth followed him below.

Will had left her only a short time before, and she wanted to sit quietly by herself and remember their time together.

In her cabin, the candles flickered, even though the door was firmly shut. Drafts from the repairs done after the attack by _The Flying Dutchman_ , Elizabeth assumed, and put it out of her mind. She sat on the sumptuous bed and closed her eyes, throwing her thoughts back to Will.

“Elizabeth,” the drafts whispered, but lost in memories of her new husband, the Pirate King ignored them. “Elizabeth!”

*

Elizabeth slipped from waking to dreams, and James frowned at her sleeping face.

“Entwined but never joined,” he said. “And now you can’t hear me at all.”

He had eternity to keep trying, he knew, but James found his initial failure disheartening.

None of the crew on Elizabeth’s ship had seen him when he came aboard, trailing in Elizabeth’s wake. James would have expected at least one to be able to see him, but none had.

Even Elizabeth, who had seen things others could only imagine with dread, had barely seemed to hear him say her name. After their experiences with the haunted crew of _The Black Pearl_ , James would have expected she could see a ghost. He was clearly mistaken.

A gentleman did not shout at a lady, but James tried anyway, hoping the added volume would help him catch her attention. But even using his loudest voice, he was nothing more than a whisper to her.

He tested it over the next week as they sailed far from Shipwreck Cove. It didn’t matter what James said, or how loud he said it, no one paid him the least mind. He couldn’t even touch anyone, as several attempts to catch Elizabeth’s shoulders had taught him. His hands passed right through her, causing nothing more than a shiver.

His latest attempt seemed almost to work as Elizabeth's head turned in surprise, but...

Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and threw her head back. “More sail!” she ordered, and the crew hurried to do her bidding, translated by the first mate for those who spoke no English. James stood behind Elizabeth and watched her work. She was capable. He wished he was sharing this life with her.

After two weeks with no change, James admitted the truth to himself. There was nothing left for him here, and no way to let Elizabeth know she wasn’t alone.

It was with a certain amount of relief that James heard the first mate translate the lookout’s shout for Elizabeth. “Captain, a ship on the horizon. _The Dutchman_.”

Elizabeth’s face lit up as though a candle had been kindled within her, and James felt a certain pang that he had never been the cause of that expression on her face. “Will,” she breathed, and hurried to the side of the ship to peer in the indicated direction.

 _The Empress_ passed through the wreckage of a broken ship before she reached _The Dutchman_ , crushing spars and barrels beneath her bow. James heard a shout and saw a young man clinging to a barrel.

“Help me!” he called, but none of the living aboard heard him, and James had no way to help another like himself.

“Will!” Elizabeth called, when they got close enough, and James could see a figure in black upon the deck of _The Dutchman_. Will, vibrating with just as much intensity as Elizabeth was putting out.

Then Will’s eyes slid over to James, and widened. James shrank back, even though he knew Will had to be looking at something behind him.

No one could see him. That was James’ curse.

“Elizabeth,” Will called, “you have a stowaway.”

“I am _not_ ,” James said, forgetting for a moment that Will wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Elizabeth glanced around, joined by those of her crew who knew English. “A stowaway?” The ships were sailing parallel now, as close as was safely possible. A conversation could be held, if one was willing to shout. “What do you mean?”

“A ghost,” Will called and James froze.

Will Turner could see him.

Will Turner of all people could see him, when no one else alive could.

Will Turner was on the deck of _The Dutchman_ , which had undergone a dramatic transformation since James had last seen it. The crew around Will was fully human, not oddly mixed with fish and crustaceans.

There was a scar visible on Will’s chest, where his shirt was pulled aside. A scar over his heart, the matched piece to the box that thumped a heartbeat under Elizabeth’s bed.

“Will Turner is Davy Jones,” he said aloud.

Will laughed. Elizabeth gave Will a look that questioned his sanity.

“James just made a realization,” Will said.

Elizabeth spun to where James stood, but her wide eyes searched the space he occupied without settling on him. “James? James is here?”

“Yes,” Will said, and somehow, despite the volume he was using to make himself heard, his voice was gentle. “I think he’s been there since after the battle.”

“I have,” James said stiffly. The impropriety of following another man’s wife, even if one was a ghost…

His etiquette education hadn’t covered such a situation, but James was aware of a dull sense of shame staining his cheeks with remembered blood.

“Come aboard,” Will invited. Only it wasn’t an invitation, James realized, as he was drawn onto _The Flying Dutchman_. It was a command.

“James!” Elizabeth called, and when he turned to look at her, her eyes met his unerringly. “My God. You just appeared, like…”

“A ghost?” he suggested, and gave her a thin smile. “Goodbye, Elizabeth. My apologies for stowing away.”

“James!” she called again, but James couldn’t look at her anymore.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder. “I think I owe you a drink,” said a vaguely familiar voice, and James looked up. 

The sailor who’d raised the alarm the night James had died. Without the starfish and barnacles changing the shape of his face, James could see the resemblance to Will.

“Name’s Bootstrap,” the man said, and led him off. After so long with no attention on him, James felt odd to be acknowledged again.

James cast one last look at Elizabeth, pale and beautiful and as far from him as if she dwelt on the moon, and followed Bootstrap below.


End file.
